


Sentiments

by Jaydeemz



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 1989 - You Are In Love, Inspired by Taylor Swift, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydeemz/pseuds/Jaydeemz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Home became apartment 303. It sometimes became a bistro, a coffee shop, or an advertising firm over a trendy bar. Home became Oliver Hampton, and everything he represents, and Connor wouldn't have it any other way." Coliver moments inspired by Taylor Swift's "You Are in Love".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentiments

**Author's Note:**

> The song featured in this story belongs to Taylor Swift, from the deluxe version of her album 1989. All rights belong to Taylor Swift.

In retrospect, Oliver should've known. He'd made the bad decision to say yes to his coworker to go hang out at the bar, although he rarely ever went. Every outing in the past had been smothered by embarrassment or regret, and Oliver hadn't been quite sure what had prompted him to say yes after all that past humiliation. 

He'd then made the bad decision to agree to disclose information about the secretary who tried to kill her boss -- allegedly -- even though the legal department had warned him repeatedly not to, just because the handsome stranger's face had grown from disappointed to flirtatious when another man had walked by. 

No, his downfall had happened even earlier. More specifically, when he'd made the terrible decision of looking up from his drink, and locking eyes with the prowling form of Connor Walsh... 

And then he brought him home. 

But when he woke up the next morning with Connor still asleep beside him... Oliver was confused. Connor got what he wanted when he tucked the printed emails in his briefcase, and Oliver had been pleasantly surprised when Connor had breathed a soft, "Thank you," and had pressed his lips for the first time against Oliver's. When his back had hit the mattress and Connor's body had slid on top of his, he knew that this was just sex. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Connor had known all along who he was, and had flirted with the advertising firm's receptionist to coordinate his presence at the bar that night. 

Connor had woken up the morning after and had given Oliver a warm kiss, nevertheless, and Oliver realized that he definitely preferred that over all the times he'd woken up from a one night stand alone. Connor had left after more lazy kisses, leaving behind the lingering feeling that this was more for both of them. 

Oliver wasn't disappointed. 

_One look, dark room_  
Meant just for you  
Time moved too fast  
You play it back 

Blessed hour: five pm.

Work was over. Oliver logged out of the last few programs he still had running as he decided against overtime. He grabbed his lunch box, looping it around his wrist before his fingers reached for his coat and he stood from his chair, turning around to head to the corridor. 

The heavy fabric fell from Oliver's hand when he saw Connor outside his cubicle. He was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, pretending now to notice when Oliver dove for his coat and drew in deep breaths to clear the blush on his face. 

Okay, so they'd enjoyed takeout last night... and more sex. Oliver had kissed Connor goodbye that morning, fully aware that Connor was simply securing his tech nerd. He hated himself for how well that was working for Connor.

"Hi," Oliver hesitantly greeted, slipping his arms in his coat and pulling it over his shoulders. "Didn't the receptionist tell you that you needed a pass?" 

"She likes me," was all Connor answered, the frustratingly handsome smirk in place. He flirted to get in; he probably needed some form of IT help as soon as possible, Oliver decided. 

...Or he just wanted to see you, his heart kindly chose to remind him when Connor winked in his direction. Oliver's thoughts flew out the window at the possibility that Connor was beginning to like him, only to reluctantly creep back in his mind when he realized that his department was oddly silent. He glanced around and spied a few heads whipping back toward their screen, and the frantic typing started up again. 

Oliver's hands were shaking so badly that he snagged his coat's zipper in his shirt, and had to spend a moment or two to unhook it. Connor eventually chuckled and reached over, untangling the web of threads from the metal and zipping up Oliver's coat, to the latter's extreme mortification. 

All Connor said was, "You should buy a coat like mine. Buttons are easier than zippers." Then, of course, he leaned forward and murmured, "... on every type of clothing." Connor's fingers brushed not-so-innocently over the button of Oliver's trousers; Oliver's surprised yelp was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the office. 

 

_Buttons on a coat_  
Light hearted-joke  
No proof, not much  
But you saw enough 

"What's that?" 

Oliver almost answers, "It's jealousy." But what comes out is, "A chain." 

Connor's eyes flicker from the road and Oliver frowns at him. He reaches over with the hand that isn't twirled around his chain to touch Connor's jaw and press his face toward the road once more, and Connor heaves a deep sigh and slumps a bit deeper in his seat. Oliver tucks the jewelry back under his sweater. 

The conversation only resumes once Connor's dropped Oliver at his apartment, and has invited himself inside. They're both drinking coffee, because they're tired and it's late, but neither are quite ready to say goodnight just yet. 

"It's for a wedding ring," Oliver simply explains. Connor looks at him like he's grown a second head, so Oliver continues, "When I was young, I said I wouldn't get married... because I didn't want to wear a ring. It's obnoxious when I type too long." Oliver smiled at a fond memory. "I used to believe that a ring was synonymous with marriages, so I'd flatly say I'd never get married. It distressed my mother so much. When I finally admitted it was a ring issue, she gave me this necklace, and I can't quite get rid of it."

Connor's reply was cut off by a meeker tone as Oliver precised, "It was her last gift to me before she passed away."

Suddenly, Connor's reply of, "What next? I meet your mom?" isn't so funny anymore. Oliver kisses him until the sadness is gone from both of their eyes, but Connor still promises to find out as much as he could about the wonderful woman who raised such a man as Oliver.

Some days, they both wonder what it would look like for a ring to dangle from that chain, and the image actually pleases them.

_Small talk, he drives_  
Coffee at midnight  
The light reflects  
The chain on your neck 

"Is there a reason you have a shelf in front of your balcony door?" Connor asked, mainly out of curiosity. He studied the shelf intently, head tilted to one side as he analyzes the items on it. "These are all decorative... You could easily find a spot for them and have access to your balcony."

Connor never expected Oliver's voice to hold such a hard tone when the other man coldly replied, "I hate heights." He turned away from Connor, his shoulders squared, and a shot of fear knotted itself in the law student's stomach.

The long silence that followed was broken by the scrape of the shelf when Connor moved it out of the way, once he realized Oliver was embarrassed. He opened the sliding door and reached for Oliver, who was still frozen in place after the admission.

"Look up," he breathed into Oliver's neck as he began kissing the skin there to incite his boyfriend to follow him. "Keep your eyes upward. I promise I won't let you go." 

Moments later, Oliver stood shakily in the dead centre of his balcony, refusing to approach the railing an inch more. He had a death grip on Connor's hand, but the law student began to talk about constellations and stars and visible planets, pointing them out although he knew Oliver probably wasn't following a bit. 

Soon, Oliver hesitantly untangled their fingers and took a step closer to the railing, immediately grasping it to keep himself steady. Connor stepped up beside him, letting his shoulder casually brush against Oliver's to remind him of how close he was. 

Oliver still looked afraid, but he was starting to smile. 

_He says, “Look up.”_  
And your shoulders brushed  
No proof, one touch  
But you felt enough 

There were no words. They'd simply run out of things to say, Oliver assumed, and momentarily panicked when Connor expectantly looked at him to continue the conversation. Their dinner wasn't even half eaten, and Oliver set down his fork to drink his glass of water, while internally freaking out. 

Finally, after he drank the entire glass out of desperation for more precious time, Connor reluctantly asked, "Did I tell you about our new case?"

"The alleged bank robbery?" Oliver replied, and mentally chided himself when Connor shrugged and went back to his food. He could've lied and said no. Desperately, he tried, "We... had a bug today."

"You told me," Connor chuckled, "once by text and once at the start of this meal... five minutes ago."

Oliver gave a deep sigh and took a large bite of chicken, taking his sweet time to chew it. Connor picked at his vegetables, but didn't say anything else. Instead, he winked at Oliver and continued to eat. 

To Oliver's surprise, it didn't become awkward. He had been pondering the idea of turning on some music, or the television, but the silence was soothing after a hectic day. Connor didn't speak through the dishes, and although this could've worried Oliver some other day -- what if Connor was getting bored with him? -- he felt at peace with their lack of conversation. 

After supper, Oliver found himself in bed instead of on the couch watching tv. His body was tangled with Connor's and they remained silent through the rest of the night, aside from the gasps of pleasure that escaped both their lips. Their hands remained tightly intertwined, even as they both fell asleep much earlier than they usually did. 

_You can hear it in the silence_  
You can feel it on the way home  
You can see it with the lights out, lights out  
You are in love, true love  
You are in love 

Connor exhausted him, really. He was a ball of energy that never seemed to fizzle out, whether it was during a midnight study group or a 6am jog. Sometimes, Oliver would text him at three in the morning and Connor would be over in an instant, ready for anything from a movie marathon to a night of wild sex. 

This changed after their three month break. The student became withdrawn, quiet, and preferred silence to their old bickering. Frankly, Oliver didn’t quite hate it. 

Oliver, who is wearing a shirt that he isn’t quite certain is his, hides his smile behind his Avengers coffee mug. Connor shakes the blackened piece of bread in a desperate attempt to somehow revert it back to something edible, wincing horribly as he did so. He’d promised Sunday brunch, and he was delivering Sunday brunch, although with a bit of difficulty. The law student casts a hesitant glance in Oliver’s direction, and the latter scribbles an answer in the morning paper’s crossword, ignoring when Connor dumps the toast in the bin and starts over. 

_Morning, his place_  
Burnt toast, Sunday  
You keep his shirt  
He keeps his word 

Despite popular belief at his boarding school, Aidan Walker wasn't his first. Aidan was his first... of sophomore year, yes, but Connor had fallen in love before. It was laughable to think that a thirteen year old boy would even consider something as serious as love, but Connor had fallen hard for the handsome senior boy who played sports and had good grades, and who's aftershave literally made Connor's mouth water. His name was Paul.

When he found out that the boy -- more of a man by then -- was dating a beautiful brunette girl from their sister school, Connor had spent a full day sobbing in his dorm room. The next year, he fed the rumours that Aidan was his first, struggling to forget the nights he'd spent sneaking out in to Paul's room, letting the 17 year old boy teach him everything about sex and lust and warmth and passion. 

After that, it just became a lot easier to be like Paul than to hate him. One night stands became his comfort, and they didn't hurt as much as pouring all of your heart into one person and risking that level of pain. It worked. It worked very well. 

Yet Connor woke up after a special one night stand, however, and couldn't help kissing the geeky man anyways. The way that Oliver's eyes relaxed when Connor threaded his hand through his hair that morning was beautiful, and Connor couldn't help those fleeting touches. Oliver teetered between looking nervous and comforted, and Connor was absolutely unable to resist him whenever Oliver looked the slightest bit anxious. 

It all became easier in time. 

Even when they spent three months apart, and God did that hurt like hell, Connor couldn't bring himself to forget the warmth of Oliver's body next to his. Everyone else was cold, unfamiliar, and he missed Oliver to death. 

That first kiss after they reconnected chased all the pain away. He had soap in his ears, and Oliver was freaking out a few steps away, but Connor moved closer to him and didn't feel the slightest bit of shame in begging Oliver to let him stay. 

And he did. 

_For once you let go_  
Of your fears and your ghosts  
One step, not much  
But it said enough 

"Connor Walsh!" 

Connor refuses to turn toward the voice. Instead, he whirls around to face Oliver, who had stopped in his tracks. Connor takes his hand, squeezed it half-heartedly, but Oliver's own fingers are limp in his. 

The man is the athletic type, without any of the bulk. He's got jet black hair and a smile that could win awards, and he blatantly ignores Connor's reluctance by giving him an awkward sideway hug despite the fact that Connor's eyes are riveted on Oliver's closed off expression. 

The man pulls back hesitantly and asks, "Am I interrupting?" 

"Yes," Connor hisses. "Good bye, Peter." 

"Shit, you remember my name?" Peter beams as he continues to ignore Oliver. "I'm honoured. I must've been good in bed if you remember my name." 

"You weren't that memorable." Connor pulls on Oliver's arm as they keep walking towards their favourite restaurant, leaving Peter behind. It was just a bad coincidence. 

Earlier, his phone had vibrated with a text, as Connor had just stepped in the shower. He'd asked Oliver to read it out loud to him, but his boyfriend had become quiet and had simply left the steaming bathroom. Connor had rushed through his shower only to find a text from one of his conquests of a few months prior, before he'd even met Oliver.

"Hey Con. I'm free tonight if you're up for some sex. Same place?" Connor had stared blankly at the name, Nathan B., and couldn't even put a face to the contact. He could however put a body, since Nathan B. had the decency to take a picture of himself completely nude, cutting off his head to lower the focus point of the picture.

Connor was only about 50% sure that Oliver believed his explanation. Nonetheless, Connor quickly shot a text in reply that this was a wrong number and to not contact him again, and then promptly dragged Oliver out to dinner to apologize for something that was technically out of his control. 

And now he ran into Peter. The evening already feels ruined.

The restaurant is full since it's Friday night, but Oliver is slowly beginning to relax. He's now holding Connor's hand and chatting about his day, and Connor keeps his phone in plain sight for Oliver to see he has nothing to worry about. 

The waiter stops by their table with two glasses of water. "Hello, welcome to-- oh my God."

"Come on!" Connor actually realizes too late that he has yelled. The adjacent tables silence and peer at him, but Connor is gawking at yet another man he's slept with, this time during a vacation in Florida, and Oliver looks ready to cry. 

This one's name is apparently Loic, according to his name tag, and he's got straight whitened teeth and a tan despite the cool spring they've been having. He's handsome as hell -- the surfer type, Connor had dubbed him.

"I won't make this awkward, dude, I can see you're on a date," Loic points out. Connor hates that he won't look at Oliver.

Well, Loic does wind up looking at Oliver, since the latter gets to his feet fast enough to cause a screeching noise to echo through the quiet room. Oliver doesn't look at Connor as he leaves the restaurant, and begins to walk back to his apartment at an aggressive pace. 

Connor has to run to catch up to him, and finally falls into steps with him.

"So you have a type." Oliver's voice is cold... as cold as their half-argument about the balcony all these weeks ago. "I want to point out that I don't fit the bill."

"Yes, I have a type." Connor's voice is as cold, but holds an intensity that makes Oliver stop on the sidewalk and look up at Connor. The law student makes his way right to Oliver, and immediately the other man leans closer, and they share a short kiss. No matter the argument, Oliver always agreed to kiss him through it, and Connor appreciated the leeway as he leaned his forehead against Oliver's and murmured tenderly, "Maybe that's why I never stayed with them. They were too much my type." 

It takes a moment, but Connor can see the exact moment that Oliver forgives him. The anger shifts to regret in his eyes.

Mollified, Oliver murmurs against his lips, "You needed something different, stable. You needed me." He grins because it's ridiculous for Oliver to think that Connor would ever need someone like him. 

But Connor kisses him back hungrily, right in the middle of the street, because Oliver is completely right.

 _You kiss on sidewalks  
You fight and you talk_

The night was quiet, which isn’t a surprise when considering it was a long weekend in June, and everyone was gone camping. They’d opted to sleep without clothes, and for cuddling which had led to peaceful sleep instead of sex. The sun had just set when Connor woke up. The only indication was his eyelids, hesitantly fluttering open, and Oliver smiled when he felt those long lashes brush against his bare chest. He reached down and pressed a soft kiss to Connor’s forehead.  
“Oliver?” Connor whispered, voice thick from sleep.  
Oliver hummed in reply, pulling Connor closer to his chest despite the warmth. The law student sighed happily when Oliver nuzzled his hair with such affection that Connor could have been overwhelmed by the beautiful emotion if he had been fully awake. Instead, he murmured, “You’re… my best friend, Oliver.”  
One deep breath later and he was asleep, his body relaxing fully against his boyfriend.  
With one more kiss on Connor’s temple, Oliver’s whisper made Connor’s lips twitch in his sleep. 

“I love you too, Connor.” 

_One night, he wakes_  
Strange look on his face  
Pauses, then says,  
“You’re my best friend.”  
And you knew what it was  
He is in love 

Home was a strange concept for Connor. Home had been an expensive mansion. Home had been a boarding school, and then a college dorm room, and then an apartment near an Ivy League school. Home had always been a cold place he's never really belonged to, until now. 

Now, home was a hand that fit snugly in his as they watched shows from his grandparents' era. It was a pair of dirty glasses lying on top of a laptop so modified that it barely resembles its original state. It was messy blankets after a night of warmth and love, and a fitted sheet that kept disentangling itself from the mattress because they'd moved too much. 

Home became apartment 303. It sometimes became a bistro, a coffee shop, or an advertising firm over a trendy bar. Home became Oliver Hampton, and everything he represents, and Connor wouldn't have it any other way. 

_You can hear it in the silence_  
You can feel it on the way home  
You can see it with the lights out, lights out  
You are in love, true love  
You are in love 

It was cliched, but when the secretary at Oliver's office unlocked the door for him without even asking for ID, he knew that Oliver and him belonged to one another in a very special way. He was bringing Oliver his favourite coffee, from his favourite coffee shop, since it was Friday and Annalise had let them go early, but his boyfriend was stuck for another few hours at the office. 

He drew glances as he usually did while waltzing toward Oliver's cubicle. He knew that people talked about them, and the topics ranged from envious, to incredulous, to sceptical. There were also those who were more in love with their relationship than they even were, some times, and Connor openly grinned at a young newbie who was smiling at him as he stopped behind a very focused Oliver. 

He placed the coffee right beside a picture of himself, which Oliver insisted to put on his desk although it exasperated Connor to no end. His boyfriend was humming into the phone as he remotely accessed a computer, but he took a moment to beam at Connor. 

There were no words to describe the sensations between them at such a small, domestic piece of comfort. 

_So it goes_  
You two are dancing  
In a snow globe round and round  
And he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown  
You understand now why they lost their minds  
And fought the wars  
And why I’ve spent my whole life  
Trying to put it into words  
Cause you can hear it in the silence  
You can feel it on the way home  
You can feel it with the lights out  
You are in love, true love  
You are in love  
You can hear it in the silence  
You can feel it on the way home  
You can see it with the lights out, lights out  
You are in love, true love  
You are in love 

It was always whispered in the dark, long after they've gone to bed, and long after when they were both sure the other was asleep. Sometimes, Connor was first, but most of the nights it was Oliver. 

They'd been drawn to each other's embrace no matter how far apart they fell asleep, and someone's lips would brush over bare skin and murmur those three solid words that made the other smile in the darkness.


End file.
